And the briars and bushes about cover it up these days
And there's no one to claim it or care if he's gone away
For he was only a miner and it's only a coal miner's grave.
So, pay no attention; it's only an old miner's grave.
Pay no attention to the briars and the weeds - let them stay,
'Cause who's gonna miss him or care that he's gone a-way.
He was only a miner, and it's only a coal miner's grave.
Francis Estep from Holly Grove W.Va.,
In nineteen and thirty loaded coal ten hours a day
Six days a week, forty-seven and a half cents a ton.
He was shot down by gun thugs at the young age of thirty-one.
So the briars and brambles ramble all over his grave,
Like the thorns in his life, for living he had to pay.
Now there's no one to miss him, care that he's gone a-way.
He was only a miner and it's only a coal miner's grave.
[So is this little marker his only memorial today?
A man, who gave his life for the U.M.W.of A.
Is this how we remember all the sacrifices he made?
To let the briars and the weeds take over his Union and grave.]
Contributed by Bernart Bartleby - 2019/9/25 - 18:25
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